Snapshot
by Bethe
Summary: A short interaction between Parker and Jarod at a cemetery. . .(Fixed a few typos)
1. Prologue

Snapshot By Samantha  
  
Prologue  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note: Hey guys. I know that I haven't finished the two fics that are already up, but I had a weird, yet freakishly vivid dream that I had to adapt to a story. So, I hope you enjoy. I'm also working on my other stories, seeing as how my projects are finished!! (hallelujah, praise the Lord!!) So, on with the show!  
  
~*~  
  
Jarod looked over the sheet of paper again before rubbing his weary eyes. His latest pretend as a high school British Lit teacher was wearing on him. He reclined in his chair and stretched. This pretend was supposed to be a fairly easy one. The teacher he'd replaced had recently "committed suicide." But Jarod wasn't buying it. So far, his evidence showed that the teacher had been sexually harassed by the vice principal multiple times, yet she never went to the authorities with it.  
  
Jarod stood up and headed to bed. He was going to have a long day ahead of him.  
  
~*~  
  
Marisa Walker poured some creamer into her coffee as she eyed the new substitute. Jarod Keats, he called himself. She opened a folder, pretending to peruse some homework that needed to be graded. What she was really doing was looking at a picture of the man across the lounge. She turned the page and looked at another picture. Clippings from various papers across the U.S. were stuffed inside the folder, like her own little red notebook. Jarod was a man of many names.  
  
Marisa had first taken notice of Jarod when he had stayed in her hometown six years back. He helped out her mother when she was being oppressed by her scummy landlord. Marisa had been 16 then, and hopelessly in love with the tall, dark, and handsome stranger. Now, she was 22 and had a stronger head on her shoulders.  
  
She'd picked back up on his trail when he arrived at her college campus a year before to investigate a series of rapes. She had, in fact been a victim of one of the rapes. By the time she realized who he was, it was too late. But, with the Internet, she followed the newspaper articles of that mysterious man named Jarod. When she graduated, she started her own investigating. She swiftly caught up with him.  
  
Before she was raped, she was Alison Douglas. But the rape was like a rebirth for her. So, a new person, a new identity, was her thinking. She became Marisa Walker. When she had traced Jarod to Lincoln High School, she quickly forged all the necessary paper work and became a teacher at that school as well. She would talk to him before his job was done, and he vanished into thin air. She had to at least tell him of her gratitude. Then her task would be finished.  
  
She watched as Jarod "Keats" walked out of the teacher's lounge. With a swift glance to her watch, she realized that she needed to get to class herself.  
  
~*~  
  
"Who can tell me about Ozymandius?" Jarod asked while leaning against his desk. He looked around the classroom as he received blank stares. He bit back a chuckle and turned to the dry erase board behind him. He picked up a marker and wrote Ozymandius. Underneath it, he wrote Percy Bysshe Shelley.  
  
"Ozymandius," he began, "was written by this man," he said while tapping Shelley's name with his red marker. "The true meaning of this poem is the futility of man. We all die, at one point or another, and soon after that our works will be forgotten. Think about the inscription on the statue that says, 'I am Ozymandius, King of Kings, look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!' What are the next words after that statement? 'Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far and away.' The statue that declared the might of the King of Kings is now ruin. If someone that powerful can be forgotten, what about poor old us. So, don't boast about your abilities, because you will be gone someday, and then forgotten." He paused for a moment, scanning the room. His students looked slightly more captivated than normal. Then he put the marker down and said, "Have a great weekend. Class dismissed."  
  
As he busied himself packing away his books and his computer, his students quietly left the room. One girl approached him, hugging a black binder to her chest. She waited until he looked at her before tucking her hair behind her ear and saying, "Mr. Keats, that was amazing. I had no idea poetry written that long ago could still mean so much today. It really opened my eyes. Those stuffy old poets really had a handle on mankind, didn't they?" Jarod chuckled as he put a book in his satchel.  
  
"Very true, Lydia. Well, I'm glad that I could make the poem live for you all today," he rumbled. Lydia started to say something else, but Jarod's attention was captured by the woman walking by his door. She was a teacher, that was obvious. As she passed the portal, she turned her head and caught his eye. A sudden wave of déjà vu passed over him, and time seemed to move in slow motion. He followed her until she was out of sight, and the moment was broken.  
  
"Mr. Keats?" Lydia asked, bouncing up and down slightly. Jarod rubbed the bridge of his nose.  
  
"I'm sorry, Lydia. I had an attention drift, is all."  
  
The two finished their conversation, and Lydia left the room. Jarod picked up his bag and his black leather jacket and went to his car. But the woman was still in his mind. Where had he seen her from? Did he know her? Did she know him?  
  
He sat in his car for a few minutes, just gripping the steering wheel while trying to get his thought processes in order. He then shook his head and started the car. He would look in the directory when he got to his apartment. He drove off with the mystery woman dominating his thoughts.  
  
~*~  
  
Marisa sat in her classroom, trembling. She had taken a brave move by walking past his classroom, and then looking him directly in the eyes. She could have sworn that she saw a faint flicker of recognition in those dark brown eyes.  
  
Calming herself down, she stood and gathered her things. She needed to go home. Her cat was waiting on her. 


	2. Part 1

Snapshot  
  
By Samantha  
  
Part 1  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note: Dude! I just totally realized that I left out a disclaimer. So, I'm going to add a blanket disclaimer to this one, and it will go for the rest of the series. Oh, p.s., thanks to my reviewer. Notice, the single usage. Please review if you read. I'd like to see what you think about this story. Thanks!  
  
Disclaimer: The Pretender is not mine, although I sincerely wish it were in my hands, because then we would have some freaking closure! Anywho, the poem Ozymandius was written by Percy Bysshe Shelley a long, long time ago. I don't own that either, though I wish that I would have thought of it. . .but that's probably impossible.  
  
~*~  
  
Marisa sat straight up in bed, sweat pouring down her cheeks. She shivered as she gathered her quilt to her body, desperately wanting to find some warmth. The nightmares were getting worse. Just being this close to Jarod brought back traumatizing memories of her rape.  
  
She knew that it was all in the past, and the rapist was put away. But the thought was still as terrible as the day it took place. She looked at the clock and sighed when she saw that the red digital numbers read 3:27.  
  
Marisa wrapped the quilt around her as she got out of bed and walked toward her kitchen. After she started her coffee maker, she leaned against the counter and stared blankly out the window. Snatches of the dream floated back into her mind.  
  
She was suddenly jerked out of her trance when she felt something snake around her ankles. She looked down and saw Esperanza, her cat looking up at her with large green eyes.  
  
"Peri," Marisa murmured her nickname with a slight scolding tone as she picked up the jet black cat. She petted the cat's downy fur in long, soothing strokes. "¿Qué está pasando, gatita?" she asked huskily in her native tongue. "Eh?" She smiled softly to herself as the fear and worry began to melt away.  
  
~*~  
  
Jarod had searched forever for the picture, but he couldn't find it in the directory. In frustration, he ransacked his room, looking for anything about the mysterious woman who seemed extremely familiar. After a few hours, he came across a piece of paper that was recently dated. He looked it over and found that it was a memo introducing the new staff members. Jarod's name was there, as were two other men. And then there was only one female listed: Marisa Walker.  
  
It was a long shot, but he figured it was worth it. Jarod booted up his computer and in no time was on the Internet and hacking into the school's personnel files. After a few moments, he found her. He clicked on the link under her name, and an enlarged picture appeared on the screen.  
  
The first thing he found himself looking into was a pair of huge hunter green eyes. Even though it was a hastily taken picture, the camera had captured a haunting past of pain that lingered in her eyes. Then Jarod took in her silky shoulder length black hair. Next was her nose, small and slightly upturned. Her mouth naturally fell into a slight pout, making her seem like a child. But her facial structure said otherwise. Her face was an oval shape, and she had high, defined cheekbones. Her skin was a rich tan color, and without blemish. Except for one thin, silver scar along her left cheek.  
  
After getting over her breathtaking beauty, Jarod studied her face more closely, trying to remember anything that he could. After a long time, he gave up. It was somewhere in the dark recesses of his information warehouse, but he couldn't quite find it.  
  
He looked to the clock. It read 4:45. Jarod rubbed his eyes as he moved to make a pot of extra dark coffee. There would be no sleep for him this night.  
  
~*~  
  
Marisa smiled as her last class filed out of the room.  
  
"Adios, Señorita," some called out as they passed through the door. She shook her head to herself. Her original career goal had never been teaching, but she found that she liked it. Especially teaching others her native language.  
  
She turned her attention to erasing the white dry erase board, so she didn't notice when he walked in.  
  
"Your students think the world of you," Jarod rumbled, leaning against the door frame. Marisa jumped slightly, put the eraser down, and then turned to face him.  
  
"The same could be said of you, Señor Keats," she said with a nervous smile on her face. The two stood in an uncomfortable silence, measuring each other up. Jarod cracked first.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked, genuine confusion on his face. Marisa looked down before answering.  
  
"Marisa Walker, Spanish teacher," she whispered, still looking at her feet, "But I used to be Alison Douglas." She didn't look up, letting the information sink in.  
  
"Alison. . ." he whispered, "Alison?" Jarod moved forward and gently took ahold of her shoulders. "*That* Alison Douglas?" She looked into his eyes and nodded. He let go of her shoulders and rubbed his chin.  
  
"They always say third time's a charm," she offered weakly. Jarod shifted his feet and then looked back at her.  
  
"You followed me." It wasn't a question. Every instinct told Marisa to look away. Instead, she stood her ground and held his gaze.  
  
"I had to thank you. You left the college without a trace. I just now got ahold of your trail." Jarod shook his head. "Please, don't be angry. You've appeared in my life twice. That, alone, must mean something. I needed to thank you. To get closure." Marisa swallowed. Jarod stood silent for a long time.  
  
"I understand, Al--Marisa. Why did you change your name?"  
  
"I'm a different person than I was before. . .it. . . happened. It just seemed right." Jarod nodded. "Thank you, Señor Jarod," she murmured, reverting to the nickname she had given him six years ago, "Thank you for everything." Her lower lip trembled as she turned to finish erasing the board.  
  
Jarod stood in the same place for a few brief moments, watching her at work. Then an idea popped into his head. He asked with a light tone, "Would you be willing to give me a hand?" Marisa paused before continuing with her task.  
  
"What did you have in mind?" she countered, her back still to him.  
  
"Well, the previous Brit Lit teacher didn't kill herself." Marisa put down the eraser once more as she turned to face him, an inquisitive look on her face urging him to continue. Jarod looked around briefly.  
  
"We shouldn't do this here. Up for dinner?"  
  
~*~  
  
Miss Parker stormed into her office, rage written all over her face.  
  
"Where is he?!" she bellowed, frustration getting the better of her. Broots, the poor man, had been about to take a sip of a fresh cup of coffee when she'd violently entered the room, and ended up with the scalding liquid all down his front. He grabbed a nearby Kleenex box and began swiping the tissues at his horrendously loud Hawaiian shirt.  
  
"I-I don't know, Miss Parker. There isn't a trace of him anywhere, that I can find." Parker bent over and beckoned him with her finger to move closer. Broots put the Kleenex down and sat forward in his seat.  
  
"FIND HIM!" she shouted, causing the techie to jump once more.  
  
"Now, Parker, that behavior definitely isn't good for your ulcer," mused Sydney as he walked into the office with a newspaper folded under one arm and a Styrofoam cup in the other. Parker's nostril's flared as she stood up to address him.  
  
"When I want your opinion, Freud, I'll tell it to you. What's not good for my ulcer is that lizard Raines breathing down my neck about finding Jarod, and then seeing my brother with a new Asian floozy," she spat out, her words like ice. "Have you had *any* contact with our Wonder Boy?" she asked while rubbing her forehead.  
  
"No, I'm sorry. He hasn't called me in at least a month," Syd replied in his soothing Belgian voice. Parker's fingers on her right hand fluttered slightly; a sure sign that she was craving a cigarette.  
  
"Broots, keep searching," she muttered as she left the room in the same manner in which she entered. Broots looked at Sydney before sharing a sympathetic smile.  
  
"P.M.S.," they said in unison.  
  
~*~  
  
"So, Samuels killed her?" Marisa asked, slightly skeptical. Jarod swallowed his spoonful of ice cream while nodding.  
  
"Yes. I know, he looks as if he couldn't hurt a fly. The thing is, he's been sexually harassing her for months. She even went out on a few dates just to appease him. He wanted more, and she wouldn't give it to him. So, he killed her. But not before having his way with her."  
  
Marisa took in a breath. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to hear the rest of the story.  
  
"He cornered her in her own apartment, and drugged her just enough to make her complacent. Then, he raped her, but not violently. After he was finished, she was coming out of it. So, he drugged her enough to kill her, and he fled the scene."  
  
"Where do I come in?" she asked, a slight tremor to her voice. A light entered Jarod's eyes as he began to explain his plan.  
  
"He needs to feel belittled, like he's nothing, with nowhere to go. Trapped." He smiled devilishly. Even though Marisa felt utter fear at the mere thought of the plan, she put up a brave front.  
  
"Anything for Señor Jarod," she whispered, and raised her glass of champagne. As he raised his soda glass and they toasted, Marisa wondered what she had gotten herself into.  
  
~*~  
  
One Week Later  
  
"What's the matter, John?" Marisa asked in the most playfully seductive voice she could manage. "Does your drink not agree with you?" She smirked almost evilly. Vice Principal John Samuels' eyes conveyed utter horror when he realized what must have happened.  
  
"You--you've spiked my drink," he gasped as he slowly lost feeling. Soon, he couldn't move, but he was completely aware of everything that was going on.  
  
"You see," she murmured, "you killed a fellow teacher. We just couldn't let that go by unpunished. It would make me sad," she pouted. Then she broke into a laugh that scared even her. Samuels shook his head.  
  
"No, I didn't do it. I swear," he whispered.  
  
"Admit it!" Marisa shrieked, "You killed Miranda Michaels because she wouldn't put out! Isn't that right?" She produced a black whip, and cracked it at the carpet by his head. He yelled out in fear, but still denied his evil deeds. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." Marisa knelt down and straddled his waist. "You should never lie to a woman with a whip," she whispered icily. She ran her manicured nails down his bare chest, then stood up again. She cracked the whip loudly in the air and said, "Now, tell me the truth, or I'm going to get really angry." Samuels was about hyperventilating at this time.  
  
"Okay! I did it! I was so frustrated! I loved her so much, and she was a tease! She deserved to die, and I was the only one brave enough to kill her!"  
  
"I thought so," came Jarod's deep rumble as he moved from his hiding place while clicking off a recorder.  
  
"Keats!" cried out Samuels desperately, "save me from this lunatic!" Jarod walked closer, and then knelt down by his face.  
  
"I don't think so, Mr. Samuels," he murmured, an evil look in his eye. "You have no right to say who dies and who doesn't. Yet, you took that responsibility on yourself. Now, you are the one who has to pay." Jarod then took another glass and a funnel into his hands. He shoved the funnel into Samuels' mouth and poured the contents of the glass down the tube. After gagging, the vice principal looked at Jarod in fear.  
  
"No!" he cried out, "Please, don't do this!" Jarod and Marisa simply watched as he slowly fell unconscious. Then, Jarod took the tape out of the recorder and slid it into an envelope that had been previously prepared. Then he picked up the phone, and called 911. He gave the address and said someone had overdosed on sedatives. He was about to congratulate Marisa on a job well done when a shot rang in the air.  
  
"Well, well, look at what we have here," murmured a cold voice. Jarod turned around and saw Miss Parker in the doorway, a smoking gun in her hand.  
  
"Parker, please," he began, "let her go. Don't get her involved in this." He nodded his head toward Marisa while raising his hands. Parker's eyes darted between the two before she smirked.  
  
"Oh, no. We've been looking for her, too. What luck, I get two prized possessions at the same time. Alison, dear, it's time for you to come home."  
  
"I'm not Alison, I'm Marisa!" she spat, "I'm not your dear, and that hell is not my home!" Jarod looked between the two women, utterly confused.  
  
"Oh, but it will be," Parker countered. Marisa let out a string of curses in Spanish. Parker understood every word, but she lowered her guard. Jarod took his chance and tackled her, knocking the gun from her hands. Marisa picked it up and trained on the other woman. Jarod stood up and grabbed Marisa by the hand.  
  
"We need to hurry. Where Parker is, Sweepers aren't far behind." With that, the two escaped the apartment building and called a taxi.  
  
Once in the safety of the car, Jarod turned to Marisa.  
  
"You left a lot out of your story, didn't you?" he asked, panting. She looked out the window.  
  
"Later," she croaked. Jarod watched her profile for a long time. Then he cradled the front of his face in his hand and sat in silence for the rest of the ride.  
  
~*~  
  
Marisa stared at the steam rising from her mug of hot chocolate. Jarod sat down in front of her and waited for her to begin. After a few minutes, she inhaled deeply.  
  
"I haven't been completely honest with you," she whispered, keeping her eyes on the drink in her hands, "I had lived at the Center since I was three before my mother got me out. We lived for 7 years in peace. Then you came and helped out my family. Of course, the Centre followed your trail, and took me back. I stayed there until I was 19. Then, I escaped myself and went to college. I figured that only you knew how I felt, so I started searching for you. Then, I was--I. . ." she faltered slightly, "I was raped. Part of a string of rapes, actually, which sent you my way. Quite by accident, I assure you. I didn't recognize you at first. When I did, you left. I changed my name, so by the time the Centre got to us, they didn't know who I was. I graduated and caught up with you. Now, here we are."  
  
Incredulously, Jarod asked, "Why do they want you so much?" Marisa shrugged.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"What did they do to you?"  
  
"I can't remember my first year there. But I remember it as one big game. The man that took care of me, he suggested that I look at my stay as one big game of Let's Play Pretend. As a child, that seems fun, you know? But, when I started getting older, the play got harder. A lot of it, I don't really remember. I think I've blocked most of it out. But I do remember that it was terrifying, and crying for Mami every night."  
  
"Who was the man?" Marisa smiled then.  
  
"When it was just me and him, and no cameras around, I called him Uncle Syd." Jarod made a fist and clenched his jaw. He was silent for a long time, so Marisa looked up shyly. When she saw his expression, she immediately sat up. "What's wrong, Jarod?"  
  
"That. . ." he couldn't even finish. Jarod shook his head and started breathing furiously.  
  
"Jarod," she murmured as she put down her mug and moved across the space between them. She gently placed her slender hand over his rough one. "Cálmate, Jarod, calma." She stroked his hand with the back of his fingers, waiting for him to relax. "What is the matter, amigo?"  
  
"Sydney was my handler, as well," he managed after a long time. He looked up and met Marisa's eyes. "I just couldn't believe that he would do this to yet another innocent child," he whispered with betrayal lacing his voice.  
  
"He was only doing his job, Jarod," she murmured soothingly. "I do not hold it against him. He was very fatherly to me. Never harsh. Always loving. Perhaps, he did learn from his past errors," she offered, raising her eyebrows. Jarod shook his head, almost unbelievingly.  
  
"You were at the Centre at the same time I was, when you were younger. He didn't treat me that way."  
  
"Jarod," she said lowly, moving a hand to capture his jaw and bring his gaze back to hers, "I'm a girl. And I was a second chance. He'd already set a pattern with you. Maybe he wanted to right that wrong with me. And, perhaps, he wanted to do better in raising me than he did Miss Parker, yes?" She comfortingly rubbed her thumb against his cheek. They looked into each other's eyes for a long, silent time.  
  
"Maybe," he whispered in a choked voice. Marisa nodded and smiled kindly. She was about to move her hand away, when Jarod placed his on top of hers and kept them on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned his head into her palm before doing the unthinkable.  
  
Tears began flooding down his cheeks. He took a few shuddering breaths before a hoarse sob escaped his lips. Marisa scooted on the seat next to him, placed her other hand on his other cheek, and moved his head to her shoulder. Then she held him, rubbing his back in long strokes meant to soothe. His arms went tightly around her waist as sobs racked his frame.  
  
After a long silent time, Jarod's arms relaxed. He sat back straight and peered into Marisa's eyes. He inhaled deeply before saying, "Thank you. I needed that." Then he cocked his head.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I've only just met you, and you have me weeping like a woman," he chuckled.  
  
"Bah," she whispered while rolling her eyes and turning away. Jarod only laughed deeper. Marisa looked at him then. "It does my heart good to hear you laugh again," she murmured, her worry showing in her expressive green eyes. Jarod nodded.  
  
"Me, too."  
  
~*~  
  
"Hey, Sis, how did your little weekend excursion go?" Lyle asked, slapping Parker on the back. She winced, then turned on him.  
  
"He escaped, again. But this time, we'll catch him. And I found Alison, too. It'll be a double nab," she said confidently. Lyle masked his surprise by laughing and walking away.  
  
Meanwhile, Parker turned and sought out Broots. She would have to work extra hard if she wanted to find the both of them. And work she would. Jarod *and* Alison would soon be returning. 


	3. Part 2

Snapshot By Samantha  
  
Part 2  
  
~*~  
  
Jarod awoke with the strange feeling that something was horribly wrong, but he didn't know what it was. He slowly sat up, then got out of the bed. The weary pretender was walking to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water when he heard the sound that must have woken him up.  
  
A female scream.  
  
Jarod silently put down his glass and crept towards Marisa's bedroom. Sure enough, another scream split the silence of the apartment. His heartbeat quickened when he heard the fear in her voice. He burst into the room and turned on the light.  
  
Marisa was alone in the room. Confused, Jarod took a closer look. She was ghostly pale and a sheen of sweat glistened on her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut. He watched her for a few more moments, trying to determine whether or not he should butt in. Her head started shifting side to side. Then, "Miguel! Por favor! Ay, no!" She started screaming louder and louder.  
  
Jarod's heart clenched at the sight of her experiencing what must be a horrific nightmare. Finally, he could take no more of it. He quickly got on the bed and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders.  
  
"Wake up, Marisa," he said while squeezing her shoulders. "C'mon, wake up!" He shook her gently, and then her eyes opened. She heaved gasping breaths as her fear-filled eyes darted around the room before they met with Jarod's. "It was just a dream," he murmured, stroking one of her arms. "Only a dream."  
  
Marisa's eyes lowered against the rush of fresh tears. Jarod waited until her first sob before pulling her into his arms. He said nothing as he wrapped one arm around her back and placed his other hand on the back of her head, running his fingers through her unruly mass of curls. He held her close to him, trying to give her some of his warmth, for she was shivering violently. He started to rock back and forth slowly, truly hoping to comfort her.  
  
After a few long minutes, she took a shuddering breath and tried to move back. Jarod, however, only held her tighter. He murmured, "I'm not letting you go until I'm sure you're okay."  
  
"I'm fine now. Gracias, Señor Jarod," she said huskily. Jarod held on for a few moments longer, then he loosened his hold on her. Marisa sat back, still in his arms, and wiped her face with her hand. The action, along with her appearance, made her look like a sleepy little girl.  
  
Something stirred in Jarod's heart when she did this. He had no idea what it was, but it slightly startled him. Something must have shown on his face, because Marisa's eyes softened and she cocked her head inquisitively. He mentally shook himself and covered the situation by asking, "What was the dream about?" She blinked slowly and furrowed her brow in concentration.  
  
"It was about the rape. It's fading away, even now, but the gist always lingers. I dream about it every night." Jarod nodded understandingly. He knew a thing or two about nightmares.  
  
"I'm really tired, Jarod," she murmured with a rusty voice. Jarod would have left the room, but Marisa's frantic grabbing at his arm stopped him. "Don't leave me," she pleaded, wide-eyed, "Stay until I'm asleep. Please?" The fear in her eyes did him in.  
  
"Okay. I'll stay." Jarod got back on the bed, and Marisa nestled her head against his shoulder. He started to run a hand through her hair, hoping to bring some kind of comfort. She yawned, and was asleep within minutes. After a few moments more, he saw the cell phone on the nightstand, and an idea popped into his head.  
  
He picked up the phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.  
  
"What?" came a groggy voice on the other end. Jarod couldn't help but smile.  
  
"What can you tell me about her?" he asked, getting straight to the point. Parker didn't answer for a brief moment, then groaned.  
  
"Why do you always start your conversations with a question?" she asked, seeming slightly annoyed at being woken up.  
  
"Why do you answer my questions with questions?" he asked, keeping up the game.  
  
"Jarod. . ." she trailed off.  
  
"Well, what can you tell me about her?" he asked again. He heard Parker sigh, and imagined that she was rubbing her face with one hand.  
  
"She's a pretender, Jarod. Daddy acquired her when you started getting older. It seemed like the old man knew more than he was letting on. He figured you'd find a way to escape, and he wanted a backup plan. Sydney was her handler. For some reason, he let Syd show more care for this one."  
  
"Why didn't he tell me about this? Why didn't he tip me off?" Jarod asked, sounding betrayed.  
  
"Well," Parker said on a sigh, "That's something you'll have to ask the good doctor himself about." Jarod took a long look at the sleeping form in his arms. He shifted gently, and Marisa stirred. A soft noise escaped from her throat before she settled back down.  
  
"Is she with you right now?" Parker asked almost incredulously.  
  
"She had a nightmare, and it woke me up. Then she didn't want me to leave until she fell asleep."  
  
"Is she asleep now?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then why are you still in the room with her?" she asked softly. Jarod cocked his head before answering.  
  
"I don't know, Parker. Right now, at this moment, she seems like a lost little child. But other times, she seems older than I am. She lived through the Centre, escaped twice, and yet is fairly balanced. She hates the Centre, but she has no need for revenge. It's a curious thing," he murmured while looking at Marisa.  
  
"Maybe you find it curious, because you've went through the same experiences that she has, yet she's not like you. It would baffle me," she replied understandingly.  
  
"Parker. . ." he began, "I'm sorry for knocking you down earlier, but I couldn't let you take me or her back there." A long pause followed.  
  
"I understand," she whispered finally, "And I know this is really out of character for me, but, I'm sorry, too."  
  
"What do you have to be sorry for?" Another long pause.  
  
"I didn't exactly go about earlier the right way. I'm sorry if I scared her. From what I've experienced with Ali--Marisa, she's a lovely young woman. I've been in a terrible mood lately." Jarod nodded.  
  
"It's understandable, Parker. It's the anniversary of your father's death. You have every right to be in a terrible mood."  
  
"What if this is all there is for us?" she asked, sounding a bit choked up, "What if all there is is hunting down Centre runaways for the rest of my life? What if being on the run is it for you? We can never have normal lives, Jarod. Sometimes I wonder. . .if all this is worth it."  
  
"Parker," Jarod interrupted, "you're not thinking of--"  
  
"No, Jarod," she laughed with slight mirth, "that's not an option."  
  
"Good," he murmured.  
  
"Jarod?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Do you think that you and Marisa will. . .well. . .you know," she murmured a bit shyly. Jarod chuckled.  
  
"I don't know, Parker. It's a bit early to tell. I seriously doubt she'll ever want anything to do with another man ever again. How about you, and what's-his-face?" Jarod asked, wanting to shift the focus from him and Marisa.  
  
"It'll go until the sex gets old," she replied frankly. Then she yawned and said, "Look, I need at least two hours of sleep before I go to work."  
  
"Alright. I should probably get back to my own bed, anyway. Keep in mind that this doesn't have to be as good as it gets," he said, then hung up the phone. He placed it back on the nightstand and glanced at Marisa another time.  
  
She looked so peaceful, a complete opposite from an hour earlier. He tried to move, but she held on to him tighter. So, Jarod settled down and started stroking her hair. Soon enough, he was asleep, too.  
  
~*~  
  
Marisa awoke early in the afternoon. She stretched luxuriously, then craned her neck from side to side. She sat up against the backboard and let her mind wander.  
  
She'd had the best night of sleep ever last night. She felt well-rested and refreshed. Then she realized that she'd had the nightmare, and Jarod came in to wake her up. Did he stay with her all night? Surely not.  
  
"Marisa," she heard him say from the doorway, "how are you feeling?" She looked over to him and smiled sweetly.  
  
"Just fine, Señor Jarod," she replied.  
  
"Good," he said with a grin, "We need to get to work." 


	4. Part 3

Snapshot  
  
By Samantha  
  
Part 3  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note: I really should be packing and cleaning at the moment, but I'm leaving for home tomorrow, and I'm wanting to get as much out as possible. I wanna say thanks to the PC group. I had a blast last night just being goofy about Pretender stuff. And also, thanks for givin me the awesome nickname. I don't know why I like it so much, but it's stuck. So, without further ado, here is the next part to Snapshot. ~~Bethe  
  
Author's Note 2: Okay, as you already know, that note is outdated. I started to write this before I left college, but never got around to the story part. I'm glad that I've waited. Some of your reviews really inspired my imagination. Right now, this story could go. . .oh. . .about. . .two different ways. I didn't know that until I read y'all's responses. Toodles! OH! P.S. If you notice, this could kind of be a response to the "Things you wish you could say at work challenge", but not quite. I just like the phrases, and I got most of them in an email a long time ago, so, I'm using them. :D ~~Bethe  
  
~*~  
  
Parker sat at her desk, replaying the phone conversation that had taken place two nights ago. It had been very surreal, having a conversation without an argument, or an abrupt hang-up.  
  
It was kind of nice.  
  
The only weird part was that Jarod was with a sleeping Marisa in his arms. Why did that bother her so much? It shouldn't. Jarod was just someone she had to track down. But deep in her heart, Parker knew he was more than that.  
  
He was her first kiss. That's something Jarod didn't know. But the kiss they'd shared that day long ago had been her first as well. They had almost become connected at the soul. They had endured so much together. She loved him.  
  
She loved him?  
  
Parker did a double take at where her thoughts were leading her. When did this happen? She'd never truly loved him. Or, at least, she thought she hadn't.  
  
True, she wasn't in perfect bliss with Tommy. He provided a break for her at a crucial time in her life. For that, she was thankful. The fact that Jarod "introduced" the two only made her wonder about his feelings for her.  
  
So, in essence, Marisa was a threat. But she shouldn't be. Parker was jumping to. conclusions, again.  
  
"M-Miss Parker," came a nervous voice behind her. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"If I throw you a stick, will you leave?" she asked between gritted teeth. Broots laughed nervously.  
  
"But if I leave, you won't get this new information that I hacked off of Raines' computer," he said in a sing-song voice. Parker stood, then turned to look at him.  
  
"Do tell," she murmured. Broots moved in real close and looked around before starting.  
  
"Well, remember how we've never known who Marisa's father is?" Parker nodded.  
  
"Why is that important information?"  
  
"Well, you're never gonna guess who he is," he whispered.  
  
"Broots," she spat out vehemently, "my patience is about as thin as a worm on the freeway."  
  
"The Major," he said answered breathlessly. "Marisa is Jarod's half- sister."  
  
~*~  
  
"Jarod!" Marisa called, "Some help would be greatly appreciated!" Marisa was trapped in the corner by two vicious-looking Dobermans.  
  
"Trixie! Fluffy! Heel!"  
  
"Trixie? Fluffy?" she asked incredulously, her accent coming out strongly.  
  
"They're really just softies," he answered while kneeling on the ground. The dogs all but bowled him over, showering his face with doggy kisses.  
  
"I'm. . .a cat person," she countered with a grimace on her face. "So, where is this contact we're supposed to meet?" Jarod stood up and looked around while still rubbing Fluffy's head. Then he smiled.  
  
"Right here," answered the man on the other side of the room. He smiled as well. Then, father and son ran into each other's arms.  
  
"How'd you find me, Son?" Major Charles asked, hugging Jarod tightly.  
  
"Sheer luck, dad, believe it or not." Charles chuckled, then stood back.  
  
"Bryan's doing fine."  
  
"Bryan?"  
  
"Yeah, he picked it himself. Somehow, 'the boy' didn't sit well with him," he replied with a smile. "He looks exactly like you now, he's grown so much."  
  
"I can't wait to see him." His father's attention then rested on Marisa.  
  
"And who is this lovely young lady?" he asked, moving forward and taking her hand.  
  
"This," Jarod said, "is Marisa. She was kept at the Centre as well." Charles cocked his head.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Sí," she replied shyly. A look of sorrow came across his face.  
  
"What were you in for?" he asked. Marisa looked down.  
  
"I was a pretender, from what Jarod has told me. My experience was quite different from his, but I was still terrified," she answered. The two looked at each other for a short bit of time. Then, the Major turned to Jarod.  
  
"Come on. You guys must be starving."  
  
~*~  
  
"Did you know?" Parker demanded icily, leaning over Sydney's desk. The psychiatrist sighed. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"Parker, it was eyes only. You know that. But, I also knew that you would find out some way or another."  
  
"How?" Syd chuckled and looked at his desk.  
  
"Well, I figured once she was with Jarod, you would be searching like mad to find information about her." Parker leaned further over until she was practically in his face.  
  
"And why do you think that?" Sydney looked her in the eyes.  
  
"Jealousy. You would want to find one flaw that would make her not right for Jarod. Well," he chuckled, "you've found one." Parker clenched her jaw.  
  
"I have no reason to be jealous, Dr. Doolittle."  
  
"Parker, you can't fool me. I've known you for longer than you can remember. You and Jarod share such a connection that if it were severed, you would never be the same person again. In your mind, Marisa was a potential blade, as were Nia and Zoë. You reacted in exactly the same way with both of the previous situations." He then folded his hands and simply looked at her. She gritted her teeth and stormed out of the office.  
  
She then ran into Lyle, who was dressed, rather oddly, in jeans and a flannel shirt. Parker straightened her silk blouse, then took in her brother's appearance.  
  
"Whatever look you were going for, you missed," she sneered, starting to make her way past him. He simply looked at her, then chuckled to himself.  
  
~*~  
  
Broots' fingers flew as he searched for more information on the elusive Marisa. Not much could be found on her, so he decided to search using the name Alison. As he sifted through a wealth of information, Parker walked into the office and slumped down on a sofa. He looked at her.  
  
"What's wrong, Miss Parker?" he asked timidly, expecting a screaming session.  
  
"Sydney's right," she replied in a choked voice, surprising Broots. He got up and walked over to her, sitting next to her.  
  
"He usually is. Don't you hate it?" he asked. Parker nodded, but sobbed instead of laughed. She covered her face with her hand and turned slightly away from Broots. He lightly touched her arm and whispered, "My shoulder's here anytime you want to use it." She hesitated for a moment, then turned back toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her in a friendly embrace.  
  
"I was so jealous of her," she whispered thickly after awhile. "She was the one in his arms, and I was alone in that huge house of mine." Even though she was very vague, Broots understood her meaning completely.  
  
"But now you have nothing to be jealous about," he remarked.  
  
"I don't even know if he feels the same way," she said. Broots sighed and stroked her hair.  
  
"To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world. A very wise person said that once." Parker sniffed.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Your mother. I saw it in a DSA once." She sat back and looked in his eyes.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Aw," he replied bashfully, "it was nothing, really." She put a finger to his lips to silence him, then kissed him on the cheek. After that, she got up and left the room.  
  
Broots put a hand to his cheek and whispered, "I'm never washing this again."  
  
~*~  
  
"What?" Parker groggily answered her incessantly ringing phone.  
  
"I'm going to need your help," came Jarod's voice on the other line. Parker sat up in bed, ran a hand through her hair, and blinked.  
  
"Help with what?" she mumbled, not quite awake.  
  
"You'll find that out in time," he replied. "Did I wake you up?" he asked innocently.  
  
"Nah," she said sarcastically, "I was just doing some pottery."  
  
"Parker. . ." he warned.  
  
"You did wake me up, Jarod, but I don't mind."  
  
"Marisa got to meet my dad today," he murmured, sounding like he was settling down in a seat. Parker closed her eyes before continuing.  
  
"Jarod. . .before you go any further in your relationship with Marisa, I think you need to talk with Sydney," she offered.  
  
"I seriously doubt Marisa and I will be going anywhere, Parker. Lately, I've been feeling more like her brother than a potential significant other." His casual remark almost caused Parker to cough. "Why would I need to talk with Sydney? What is it?" She swallowed.  
  
"It's. . .it's really not my place to say, Jarod. Sydney was the handler for both of you. Just call him," she whispered before hanging up.  
  
~*~  
  
Jarod looked at the phone curiously before hitting the "end call button". Then he dialed Sydney's number at rapid speed and waited for him to pick up.  
  
"This is Sydney."  
  
"I've been told to talk to you about Marisa," Jarod stated.  
  
"Jarod," Syd said sleepily, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"  
  
"Why haven't you told me about her before? And what is it that you're hiding now?" Syd sighed.  
  
"I didn't tell you because I was ordered not to. Mr. Parker knew that if you were told, you would somehow get her out. Only he and I knew about her. Miss Parker met her a few times, but under the impression that Marisa, then Alison, was a visitor seeking employment. Not until a couple of years ago did she learn the truth. I was ordered to treat her like I couldn't treat you. She was a Parker toy, not Raines'. I'm sorry."  
  
"I understand. At first, I was very angry, but now I realize that you were following orders. But, what is it that I have to talk to you about?" He sighed again.  
  
"Jarod, Marisa--it's hard to explain. The short of it is that Marisa is your half-sister." A long pause followed.  
  
"How can that be, Sydney? I've met her family."  
  
"You met her birthmother and her stepfather. What you didn't know is that Marisa's mother went to NuGenesis for fertility treatments. They used your father's sperm to fertilize her mother's eggs for the sole purpose of creating another pretender. Keep in mind this was after the Ethan failure." Jarod laughed somewhat incredulously. Sydney went on: "They never intended for you to find each other."  
  
"While I'm sickened that the Centre would continue doing this, I'm strangely elated. I've inadvertently found another member of my family! Syd, do you have any idea how many times I've come in contact with her?"  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Three. I helped her mother once, and then when Marisa was involved in a serial rape at her college. And the third was at the high school, where we were almost caught. I never even had a clue it was the same person until she told me."  
  
"It's a lot to take in, I know," Sydney murmured.  
  
"Is there something wrong with Parker?" Jarod asked, quickly changing the subject. Sydney hesitated before answering.  
  
"Yes and no. But I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you. You'll have to talk to her about it. Jarod, I'm an old man, and I need my sleep. I suggest you get some too."  
  
"Thanks, Sydney." Jarod hung up the phone, then readied himself for bed. The news about Marisa could wait until tomorrow. 


	5. Part 4

Snapshot  
  
By Samantha  
  
Part 4  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in so long, but Life or Death has been taking up a lot of my time recently. I've been reading my past fics for days, trying to get inspiration to write something else. I watched an ep of the Pretender today, and it got my creative gears to cranking. Hopefully this will be a good next part. ~~Bethe  
  
~*~  
  
One week after Jarod's mysterious late-night phone call, Parker was walking in a cemetery, carrying a bundle of flowers. Once she reached the right grave, she knelt and laid the bouquet neatly at the stone's base. She simply looked at the words engraved on the headstone in silence.  
  
She *had* loved Thomas; there was no denying that. His death had been very hard on her. A tear fell down her cheek. Then more followed, blurring the name in front of her. She sighed and closed her eyes. It had been three years, but the pain was still as fresh.  
  
Her cell phone chirped, breaking the silence. Parker sniffed and pulled it out. She pressed a button, put the phone to her ear, and whispered, "What?"  
  
"It's still hard, isn't it?" Parker laughed incredulously.  
  
"You must have a big set to call me on this day, Jarod," she remarked venomously.  
  
"Don't you think it's hard on me, too?" he asked. "Thomas didn't deserve to die."  
  
"I should know that just as well as you do," she whispered.  
  
"Parker," he said with a sigh, "I didn't call to start a fight. I simply wanted to offer a friend's sympathy." Parker was defeated by his gentle words. She lowered the phone slightly and sobbed, putting one hand up to cover her mouth.  
  
"Miss Parker?" Jarod asked, concern displayed by his tone. She only cried harder, moving to sit down. She began to rock back and forth slightly while her sobs resounded loudly over the line.  
  
"Why did you send him to me?" she asked, her throat choked by all the tears.  
  
"You needed someone to love," she heard Jarod's voice answer behind her. Parker gasped and turned around. There he stood, phone in hand and a sorrowful look on his face. He hung up his phone, then knelt and took hers out of her hand. He then sat beside her and took her into his arms. "You needed someone true, someone you could trust. Thomas Gates was that person. I wanted you to be happy," he ended on a whisper. Then he simply held her while she cried. Eventually the tears subsided, and she pulled back enough to look him in the eyes.  
  
"Why are you here?" she asked. Jarod cocked his head slightly and wiped her cheek with his thumb.  
  
"I didn't want you to be alone today. I wanted you to know that someone shares in your grief." His words were becoming too much for Parker. Her eyes began to well up with tears again while her jaw trembled from trying to hold them in. Jarod adjusted his position until he was on his knees and whispered, "Hey." He cradled her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "Please, don't cry. I'm not worth the tears." This only made her sob aloud.  
  
Jarod held her close to him once more and whispered, "Parker, what's wrong?" It was a long time before she answered.  
  
"I loved him," she whispered, "but. . ." she took a shuddering breath, then left the sentence hanging. Jarod rubbed her arms.  
  
"But what?" he asked, hoping she would say what he thought was coming next.  
  
"But I never let him close," she continued. "I never let anyone close," her voice drifted off. Jarod sighed and gently ran his fingers through her hair.  
  
"Not true," he remarked lightly. "Look at the distance between us. We're close."  
  
"Jarod," Parker scolded. "You know what I mean."  
  
"Parker," he replied seriously, moving back to face her, "I'm the only one who knows you loved Thomas. That's close, isn't it?" She bit her lip.  
  
"Not close enough," she whispered, getting up and walking to her car. Jarod watched her leave, then looked at the grave of his old friend.  
  
"What do I do now, Tommy?" he asked, eyeing the flowers at the foot of the headstone. 


End file.
